Night of Doom
by Gothic Thorn
Summary: Zim goes into Dib's room late into the night to steal back some pictures Dib took. An angsty one-sided pretty much ZaDr one shot.


Why was he becoming so nervous? _Because you've never done anything like this __before_, he thought. This was true, he had to admit. Normally when Dib challenged Zim he would strike back with a precise plan. The last time Dib had taken any pictures of him, he made Dib be the one to destroy them himself by his arm control nerve. Compared to that sneaking into his room at night to steal them back seemed down right stupid. This was certainly not all the mighty Irken had to offer. It also seemed... unworthy of his opponent, though he wasn't sure if unworthy was the right word.

Why hadn't he come up with a better plan? He really hadn't been too lazy. And it wasn't that he couldn't think of one. Really he had already made so many plans before. Plans that seemed brilliant, and would always go awry. Really he could have come up with yet another plan, but he already knew how it was going to end. He wasn't unmotivated to think something up, but why make a plan if you knew it would lead to exactly the same place you started? And if you were going to end up exactly where you started, Dib no further in exposing Zim, Zim no further in destroying Dib, no plan was as good as any. With no plan you would still be exactly where you started. Just this once he wouldn't bother with a plan. But as long as he was going into Dib's room... perhaps he'd just leave a trap or something on his way out.

Zim easily found the three round windows leading into Dib's bedroom. It was something he remembered well after sending a robot version of the human inside. He wasn't sure which window to use, but settled on one near the edge. A mechanical spider leg sliced into the window's surrounding metal three quarters of the way around, so it would open as if on a hinge. Zim gave a final push, but it was overestimated. He had to hold on as the window swung wildly towards Dib's wall. Dib, asleep in bed, was directly underneath him. Zim had to press his boots to the opening edge to keep himself from falling on top of him. Zim held his breath, but Dib did not stir. With a silent sigh of relief Zim swung back outside and decided on the window leading the furthest away from Dib's bed. He landed cat-like, the mechanical spider leg slid back into place. Straightening up, he took the room in.

The purple walls gave the room an all over glow. They were littered with monsters, sci-fi characters, and bits of Japanese writing all on posters. Rows of sputnik orbs dragged back and forth across the ceiling. Red lights danced through the darkness holding the ability to power an entire corner of advanced technology. The technology, Zim reflected, gave Dib the ability to keep up with his Irken ones. He needed that a handful of times but, it also lead to his downfall on more than one occasion.

There it was. A stuffed white envelope on the computer's desk, waiting to be scanned. Or was it already scanned? Zim quickly brushed into the computer and deleted all recent documents. He reached for the envelope containing the pictures. Dib turned overed with a groan, and Zim jumped. He turned and faced his enemy, the envelope forgotten.

Dib squirmed again; though Zim found it clear he wasn't going to wake up, rather he was dreaming. Zim skirted closer to him. Dib's forehead was plastered with sweat, and by his pained expression Zim found it clear he was having a nightmare. Zim felt he should comfort him somehow. How odd was it that the thing the inferior humans needed to live could bring them such a discomfort. Zim stretched a hand up to Dib's dark hair, but then brushed away the thought.

Dib's nightmarish dream must have turned into something more pleasant as his expression suddenly became peaceful. His cheek caressing the pillow as his arms lie limp and curved just ahead of his face. A breeze from the window ruffled his hair and he smiled. A ray of moonlight glinted off of Dib's glasses on a bedside table. Zim thought again how inferior the human race was. Dib depended on this tangle of metal and glass for something as simple as sight.

Another ray of moonlight fell onto Dib's entire face and ignited his features. His eyes delicately closed to show white eyelids. His dark hair came down for only a breath onto his forehead, while the rest lay in ever-present spikes. His cheeks, pale and smooth coming down to meet his relaxed, slightly pursed lips. His nose ending in such a perfect point. And before Zim could realise what he was doing he pictured what it would be like to lay his lips down on it. Down until they barely touched his snowy cheeks. To touch every bit of pale skin on his face. He dragged his eyes across his tranquil face, and pictured how he could animate it with such laughter and smiles. Dib had such an expressive face! But it was happy so seldomly. He ached to see Dib's smile on this limp figure. Hear his laughter. He pictured giving him such gentle kisses and how Dib would laugh. His real laugh, not one mixed with a maniacal laughter, not one brought on by hysterics in a quick relief situation. His effortlessly real laugh. Zim could not remember the last time he had heard it. Or if he ever truly had. He could hear it echo from the walls. He saw Dib's face alight. He no longer blended with the limp figure wrapped in the sheets, for he was now the dream, and the laughing Dib, the happy Dib was the reality. The dreamy Dib's eyes slid back and forth making ripples of motion underneath his eyelids. His soft delicate eyelids. Zim inched closer.

Dib's eyes snapped open.

Amber eyes, enlarged from what was normally under prescription glass, circled by bloodshot veins, burned into Zim.

Dib scrunched his eyes closed. He rubbed them, fighting to adjust to the darkness. The darkness loomed over him, his heart racing. He thought he saw—he thought he saw Zim's red eyes floating above him through the darkness. Blurred by sleep and an astigmatism. Dib reached for his glasses, but he still found nothing. His heart still steadying, he focused on his computer desk. The pictures were gone.

They were both exactly where they started.

* * *

Not my first written fan fiction, but it is the first I've edited enough to publish. It survived my first technical errors! I don't own the characters. Reviews always welcome.


End file.
